http://demonbloodsam.livejournal.com/ (
demonbloodsam.livejournal.com) wrote in
trans_92009-07-20 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
Say What You Want [R for Cussing][Open]
Yes, Sam Winchester was still secure in his cell, sitting on his bed, still writing in John Winchester's journal as he had been for much of the time since he'd been locked up. A stack of uneaten slop trays sat outside his cell, a sign that he was still not eating. The only nourishment he would take came from the silver flask of water that sat on the floor near the head of the bed that he had refilled periodically by either Dean or whoever was in the Precinct at the time.
He'd had several visitors, many of them trying to convince him to back down, to start eating again. But each time he had refused, defiantly resisting any and all efforts to change his mind or sway him into thinking he was wrong. He wasn't wrong. He knew it.
He'd had several visitors, many of them trying to convince him to back down, to start eating again. But each time he had refused, defiantly resisting any and all efforts to change his mind or sway him into thinking he was wrong. He wasn't wrong. He knew it.

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She looked at Sam. "He didn't die for any reason than his own stupidity. As much as it hurts to say that, it was because he did something he shouldn't have. I...had actually wanted to become a therapist or someone...someone who could help kids like my brother. Kind of had money troubles and I ended up as a barmaid of all things. Even for the past year, with everything going weird in Apex with dreams coming alive, super villains robbing banks, giant bugs, alien invasions, I found the most terrifying thing was that my brother died...because of the choices he made alone, because he didn't think things through. And that I didn't know enough to help him."
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"That's too bad," he said after she'd finished recounting her story. "But I'm not your brother. I'm not being stupid, I've thought things through, I know what I'm doing, and just because I don't feel the need to share it with you doesn't prove that I haven't. All it proves is that it's none of your damn business."
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She looked at him with a serious expression, almost scolding. "The only comfort is my brother didn't have to regret his stupidity because I still love him and wouldn't want him to suffer. But what about Dean?" She asked. "How will Dean feel, after you two went through so much, given up so much, and probably been through a lot of weird crap because that's the kind of tone you're using when you act like I can't understand. How will Dean feel after all of that...and you just died by your own hand, your own decision? Does he think killing that Yeerk is as important as you being alive? Does he care that little for you and fear the Yeerk that much?"
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Sam doesn't say anything for the longest time. He merely collects his father's journal, returns to his bed and eases himself down onto it, and resumes writing.
"Good-bye."
It's clear from his tone that, as far as Sam is concerned, the conversation is over.
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"Or is it, that you don't care? That you don't care enough about Dean that the fear of the Yeerk has overrun it? Are you afraid of it taking over your mind? That you will lose control again and do horrible things, Sam? And are you afraid to face what that Yeerk has done to you and that's why you're so afraid that even a girl like me can scare you?"
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She tilted her head to one side, looking at him thoughtfully. "And that's why I think you're terrified of anything to do with the Yeerk. Because you're doing something that, logically speaking, you should know isn't going to work by this point."
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"Someone wanna get her the fuck out of here?" he called out.
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The thing was, she didn't look angry. Determined, fierce, but also...understanding. "Did you feel horrified when you had control again, and remember what you did? That you wished you could have the Yeerk in your hand, so you could make him feel all that panic, that fear, you did when you thought you might kill someone you care about?"
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She'd promised Dean she wouldn't say anything to anyone else about her suspicions. They were, after all, just suspicions and unprovable without using invasive scans to find out what people might be hiding, and she wasn't about to do that. It went against everything she believed in. That left her one alternative: she had to talk to Sam herself.
And that is what she was planning on doing, that's what had brought her down to the Precinct where she found one of the new girls stand outside of his cell. Why she was there, Lyta didn't know, but given Sam's shouts for her to leave and her apparent refusal to do so, it was obvious that she was upsetting him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lyta demanded,
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"But I found something wrong in him thinking that it's a good idea to kill himself after surviving so much and hurting his family because he's unable to face the trauma of the incident and let fear control his actions." She did get rid of the smell of food. She didn't want someone else to notice. "And it didn't seem being nice and gentle about it was going to work. Tried that and he'd just run each and everytime, like he is now." Personally, she wasn't worried about him being upset. Sometimes people needed a full mental break down to fix themselves again. It was easier to put the pieces back together then just trying to hold them together with floss.
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She sighed, pulling her arms out from between the bars. "If you coddle him too much, he won't get any better. It'll just help his self justification for his actions that he can make us do what he wants. Kind of like you have to be careful not to spoil kids," she said in warning and looked at Sam. "Though...I really feel sorry for Dean. He'll lose his dear relative because you're too afraid to face what's really got you mad and admit that you need help. Maybe he'll accept help after you add yet another thing he's lost to the list. And hopefully the sting won't be worse when he realizes he can only blame you for your death," she said before turning and walking out.
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"Don't think you're getting away from me that easily, missy," Lyta barked as she continued after the girl. "Dr. Grey and I didn't spend days putting his psyche back together just so you could come down here and tear it apart again with whatever the hell it is you think you were doing back there."
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